The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1839

The truth was, back home, they were their families' pride. Their parents and younger siblings looked forward to the day they would return. How could their deaths be dismissed so easily, as if no one would care?

The disciples watching this scene were shaken.

When they first left home to join the sect, they had all sworn that once they achieved success, they would ensure that their families lived better lives.

That dream had driven them to train tirelessly to fight for every opportunity. They dared not slack off. Every day, they practiced and meditated diligently, obeying their sage and sect elders without question—all in pursuit of that one moment when they could finally rise above the rest.

But now, their sect elders had deemed their lives worthless.

As the evil spirits revealed their suffering, a heavy silence fell over the disciples. Their gazes shifted to Terell, and the air brimmed with unspoken rage.

Mt. Lunther's disciples were nearly on the verge of collapse, their swords gripped tightly in their hands. After all, within those vengeful figures, some were people they knew.

No one would ever speak on Mt. Lunther's behalf again. Not only Terell but even Mt. Lunther's other elders were now under scrutiny.

Earlier, Terell had tried to drag Wynter down with him. Now, he regretted it bitterly.

Wynter had severed an entire sect's fate, and that burden would bring her personal burdens.

But he would never get the chance to walk the path of cultivation again. Even if he managed to reincarnate, these souls would never let him go.

Like Isidore, he was doomed to endless suffering. No one needed to lift a hand against him—the disciples' enraged spirits would tear his soul apart.

Wynter, a disciple he had always dismissed as worthless, had never intended to let him go. By the time Terell realized Wynter's plan, it was far too late.

The others merely watched as he was consumed by the vengeful dead. No one dared to intervene—unless they were prepared to stand against every cultivator in the world.

As Wynter had said, even the pursuit of a peaceful end must be earned in the world of cultivation.

Terell writhed in agony, his hands clawing at the air in desperation. He begged for mercy, his voice raw.

Wynter stood unmoved, her expression unreadable. "Where is Isidore's soul fragment?"

"I don't know. I really don't know!" Terell said, before continuing pleading, wanting the other party to spare him. His hair stood on end, disheveled and wild.

On the outside, he appeared unaffected, but his spiritual form was already being slowly stripped away from his body.

He rolled on the ground, gasping. "The back of the mountain! Go check the back of this mountain. He set something up there—he wouldn't even let me near it!"

Wynter let go of his collar.

The onlookers remained silent, watching everything unfold, especially the sages from the other sects.

They had concluded that Wynter was too dangerous. If she continued to grow unchecked, there would come a time when not even they could restrain her.

She was ruthless, never leaving her enemies any way out. She had to be eliminated before she became unstoppable.

That was what some of them thought.

Of course, none dared voice it yet. Given the situation, they had no choice but to go along with her for now.

Each of them had their own plans. The longer one stayed at the top, the more calculating one became. On the surface, they revealed nothing, but their exchanged glances spoke volumes.

From a short distance away, Dalton observed them quietly. He seemed to smile, but there was no warmth in the expression. His deep black eyes, shrouded in shadow, carried an unsettling depth as if he saw through humanity's very nature.

There was a rumor that seemed to hold true—Dalton had never held much fondness for cultivators. But no one knew that it wasn't because he was sealed.

Meanwhile, a pair of small eyes had been watching him from afar. It was Wolf.

The moment the old man arrived, Wolf caught a strange scent that made him uncomfortable. It was sharp, unpleasant, and hard to describe.

But once Wolf set his sights on something, he never let it go. No matter how much trouble it might cause, he had to get to the bottom of it.

The old man entered his office, walked to the desk by the window, and bent down to retrieve a file. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Wolf sitting under a tree, watching him.

A tightness formed in the old man's chest.

His current identity was foolproof—there was no reason for anyone to suspect him. But this child… Was this the same one the municipal building staff had mentioned?

Wolf grinned, revealing two sharp little canine teeth—adorable beyond words. No one would ever associate him with Chaos itself.

Seeing the smile, the old man finally relaxed a little. He returned the gesture with a polite smile, then took his file and left the office. His earlier wariness had faded.

Wolf's innocent smile had put him at ease, but that was no ordinary smile. It actually meant, "I've found you!"

Wolf had come straight here after watching the security footage. He had wanted to see for himself who exactly worked in that office.

With that thought, Wolf dusted himself off and walked away. He could tell there was something off about that old man. However, this wasn't the time to make a move.

Wynter had always told him, "Be patient. A long line catches the big fish. Don't scare it off before it bites."

Wolf understood. He would let Wynter handle it when she got back.